Again to Pucci's this time with Bonnie, Howie and Holly (Hughs). More laughter, more ribs. When I look at my old journals sometimes I feel embarassed at the extent of my naivete. But I realized, it seems, for a long time what is of value you come back to again and again. This may be one of the secrets of my writing. There is always so much left unsaid, no matter how much one writes. I was thinking that this is a good reason to reread the old writing, so as to realize my own reactions. These realizations as well help to allow me to fill some of the gaps. I just had an image of climbing a high wall. Maybe this is what it has always felt like to me. I've never scaled it, but more important is that part of me knows for certain how much I've been able to get for myself by writing. There is something in the tone of this I don't like that is reminiscent of the old journals and that might be that I am more and more clearly identifying the source of the trouble to be related to anxiety. It's just that when I get really excited I have a need to fumble and then pick up the ball and keep runnning. But with all this I get some glimpse of where the trouble is.
The reason I feel so good tonight is the way that I experienced two social events- the two visits to Pucci's. As Max has said, a gain in one area wil lead to a gain in the other. For awhile now I've doubted this, because of failing to meet the deadline of the article and I want to squarely face face all the factors and make a solid hypothesis about the relative situations- the relativity of science (psychoanalysis) and art. This partly has to do with the actualization of the manifestations of the human (spirit) experience in writing. Even this is really just another tiny fragment of the possible idea. I feel I'm taking small pieces of the ultimate mosaic of this idea and examining each one slowly and carefully, like making fine collage.
Exactly at the point where I "force" things, another experience comes along and trips me up.
(8/8/84; Provincetown)

A poem called "Wars and Weddings." This is based on a dream in which a wedding turns into a war. Also- other poems where the dream is turned into lines or a title.
The depression which precedes a creative period following the excitement aroused by the promise of creation.
Like in analysis, writing requires remembering and including the obvious. It is this interplay of the obvious and the hidden that the magic depends- obvious and hidden- hide and go seek
obvious-male
hidden-female

Don't have to be afraid of circuitous routes if you're not too proud to return home a little abashed.

"I was there."
"What did you see?"
"Nothing much."
"You mean, all that trouble for nothing? Why do you bother?"

Art for the artist is like eating lobster- a lot of thick and obstinate shells to deal with to get to the precious little morsel inside.

The feeling when creating: nothing wasted, all in balance.

The more you need to protect, the less you are mobile.

Moving in on it, stealthy, like a cat.

(Two characters: one, a dog, the other a butterfly. This thought after noticing a butterfly).

It is important to isolate the observation provoked by an event and an observation which follows sequentially in the associative train.

The conflict between thought (or spirit, mind) and the associative chain- the links do not form a stream, if anything, the movements of consciousness are more like a tide and matter is more apparent than real. The difficulty is usually one of quantity which is easily taken to be a difference of quality.

Non-narrative: to isolate the mind's movements from those perceptions which are on hold (continuous; reality testing) we must distinguish between synchronous and non-synchronous observations (outer sequence of events, inner chain).

Working through an idea must include grasping the obvious.

Reaffirming the obvious is like a pedal point,like the "beat" in rock and jazz.
(8/18/84; Provincetown, Cape Cod)